Doomsday revisited or, why I’m kind of like a 14-year-old boy

My workshop tonight was tough. Super tough, mostly because it took so much of my energy not to giggle throughout the whole thing. My story had a character named Boobs LaRue (sound familiar?), and during the workshop people kept saying things like “I want more Boobs here” or “I’d really like to see Boobs. . . ”

I ran into Vodo in the hall after class and he asked me how my workshop went.

“It went well,” I said. “But I felt like Beavis during the entire thing.”
He covered his mouth and laughed. “Hee, hee Boobs.”

Seriously, that’s exactly how I was in class. I might have even covered my mouth a few times. Perhaps I am really immature and have issues with my mom not breast-feeding me. But come on! I think it’s funny that a room full of adults spent 45 minutes talking about Boobs.

Other than that, I think the workshop went swimmingly. People seemed to really like the story (except for the shitty, shitty ending). I was actually quite surprised because there were a few things that I thought I’d get nailed for (not so much tension, tense slippage) that were only problems in my head.

The Hottie’s workshop went really well too, which made me happy. Because, as I said, his story was really fucking good. I spent half the time falling all over myself to make sure I got that point across. I think he got it.

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